


blue

by kurgaya



Series: chronic pain [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Chronic Pain, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Fourth Shinobi War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21998836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurgaya/pseuds/kurgaya
Summary: "I bought dumplings,” Kakashi says, eyes sparkling. "Should we eat them in bed?”Even in the throes of agony, the idea horrifies Gai. Kakashi laughs at the look on his face.[Post-Fourth War drabble. A typical night home.]
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai | Might Guy
Series: chronic pain [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743751
Comments: 24
Kudos: 164
Collections: KakaGai Week 2019 entries





	blue

**Author's Note:**

> hashtag mood

The pitter-patter of feet alert Gai that one of the ninken is home. He opens his eyes to the mid-winter darkness; February is short and dark and so are its days, and so is the distance from the bed to the light-switch. It’s not on. It’s too far. He winces through another wave of pain, eyes squeezing shut. When he opens them again, panda-eyed Bisuke pokes his head into the room.

“Uh, Gai?” Bisuke begins, raccoon-like in the gloom. He pushes open the door, claws scratching. Then he leaps up onto the bed where Gai is spread, star-fish, and wiggles into the space. His nose is cool against Gai’s fire-trapped skin. Snow sparkles on his fur, half-melted. “Are you okay?”

 _Fine_ , Gai wants to say, but the pain won’t allow him to lie. A sigh is all he can muster, sharp through his nose. He lifts a hand to rub Bisuke’s head but doesn’t otherwise move. He can’t, not yet. The thought of it is almost as unbearable as the pain.

Bisuke whines. “Boss’ getting dim sum. Whatcha want?”

Gai responds with a tiny shake of his head. He’d eat anything Kakashi put in front of him if his body wasn’t shrieking at him. It’s not his stomach tying itself into knots – it’s his nerves. He dreads the evenings; they all end up like this. In the mornings, the pain is manageable, and he pushes through the afternoons. By sundown, he can barely stand the thought of walking; by night-time, barely stand. He scratches under Bisuke’s chin, trying to soothe the dog's wide-eyed worry. He needs time to rest - just for a while. Then he can baby-step around the apartment to dinner, to Kakashi, and finally, reluctantly, to bed.

Bisuke licks his fingers. "Should I get the boss?"

" _No_ ," Gai manages, whispering it. “Just get the usual.”

He barely hears himself. The passion that projects his voice is trapped deep within him, ensnared in chakra-veins and nerves. In the mornings, the tangle is loose and wide, and it’s easy for optimism to spill free. He likes the mornings; he feels most like himself. But that tangle is a writhing, scorching ball of flame tonight. The fire chakra that fuelled Gai throughout his life is burning him now.

Unconvinced but given his orders, Bisuke scurries away. Gai watches his little wet feet slip on the floorboards and smile despite himself. If nothing else, the dogs will happily eat Gai's dim sum if he cannot bear to.

He predicts he has twenty minutes before Kakashi arrives. Enough time to muster the force of will to move. He rolls onto his good side, hissing. The pain isn't quite as intense as it was when he collapsed indoors, so he counts that as a win. Through the dark, he can just faintly see where he abandoned his cane. Luckily, he's always first home, so there's no-one around to witness his desperate clamber to lie flat. The poor springs in the bed won't last forever if Gai keeps face-planting them. And Gai's optimism won't last forever if agony is all he has to look forward to at the end of the day.

Pain was never an issue when it was short-lived - when it was worth something.

He loses some time between one blink and the next. It's a relief. He's aware of Kakashi before he truly thinks to look - but eight dogs and a Hokage's chakra are hard to miss. The barking is oddly subdued for imminent dim sum, something which stirs unease in Gai's chest. Bisuke must've alerted them all. Of course. It's only a matter of time until there's a knock on the door.

"Hey."

Light floods in behind Kakashi, casting him in shadow. The tips of his hair seem to vanish in the glow. He enters with less noise than Bisuke but the same dog-like hesitance. Off slips the black flak jacket and gloves, and he rolls up his sleeves before seating himself on the edge of the bed. His trousers are wet with snow and his skin is ice. This doesn’t stop him from sliding a hand under Gai’s shirt.

"I bought dumplings,” he says, eyes sparkling at Gai’s disgruntled grumble. "Should we eat them in bed?”

Even in the throes of agony, the idea horrifies Gai. Kakashi laughs at the look on his face.

"Didn’t think so,” he says, pouting a little. His hand, warmer now, rubs the knot of pain in Gai’s hip. His cheer quietens into concern. "D’you need anything?”

A hot bath, perhaps. Pain relief that works. Gai lays a hand over Kakashi’s, stilling him. Not to be touched. He appreciates the gesture but his body is crackling with pain, his nerves numb. He forces words through the block of shame. "I’m fine! Tell me about your day. How many of the interviewees did you frighten away?”

Kakashi just – looks at him. Gai tries not to squirm. Kakashi probably scared away every single one of those potential assistants.

"Maa, I have _two_ eyes now, you know. You don’t look fine.”

Gai finds it in himself to smile. Many of their friends and colleagues had worried about Kakashi's reaction to the loss of his sharingan. Gai, himself, had certainly been surprised to wake up months after the war to find Kakashi with two _brown_ eyes, but Kakashi had been too busy crying to answer any questions about it. Not that questions were necessary. Kakashi has taken the loss in stride - with relief, in fact. He always was more than his sharingan, no matter what the bingo books say.

“I’ll be fine after dinner,” Gai assures (guesses, lies). That Kakashi is twice as expressive now delights him, if nothing else. The sharingan was a gift but so is its absence. He squeezes Kakashi’s hand. “I don’t mean to worry you.”

“I wish you would,” Kakashi mutters. Honesty _and_ eye-contact are too much for him, but he links their fingers, trying his best. “You don’t have to shoulder everything yourself.” His eyes crinkle. “I know that’s rich coming from me, but I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

“I don’t –”

“Or a mission, if you’re prefer. S-class.”

“A noble pursuit,” Gai agrees, but his heart isn’t in it. The longer they dither like this, the colder their dinner will be. And dim sum’s his favourite. He likes to think he’s improving at hiding the never-ending pain around his students and colleagues, but maybe someone forewarned Kakashi of his grouchy fiancé. _Be on your best behaviour, boss,_ he can imagine Bisuke saying. The thought only deepens Gai’s embarrassment. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up beside Kakashi. The once-broken bones in his leg creak like an old man’s. He’s only in his thirties.

Down the hall, the dogs bemoan their delayed dinner. Kakashi must’ve left the dumplings somewhere out of reach. They’re good dogs, the lot of them, but they’re not _that_ good. All bets are off when dim sum is concerned and Kakashi rolls his eyes at the noise.

Gai can handle walking if it means cheering up the pack. He pats Kakashi’s knee, bracing himself. “It won’t do to keep them waiting,” he says, and he pushes up onto his feet before he can second-guess himself.

For a moment, he is blissfully pain-free.

“D’you want your stick?” Kakashi asks, rising slowly, effortlessly. He shuffles over to the discarded walking stick as though he has no idea how lucky he is. Even intertwined into Gai’s life as he is, it’s so clear he takes for granted the simple ability to _move_.

Gai doesn’t consider himself a jealous person but – he feels a twinge of envy. It only makes him feel worse.

“No need!” he replies, although he can’t stand forever. Gone are the days of sentry duty, the long hours of watch on the outposts. He’s seen men fall asleep on their feet, chakra-held into place. At this time of night, he can manage fifteen minutes at best and under a minute at worst. It’s usually closer to the latter.

Kakashi collects the cane anyway. He twirls it about in his hands before hooking it over his forearm. He holds out the other arm to Gai.

"I know you can manage," he says before Gai can protest. His eyes _twinkle_. It’s nice, seeing two; it’s nice seeing him happy. "But what if I want a handsome man on my arm?"

Gai knows Kakashi well enough to recognise when he's been played. Yet it's only fondness that warms his chest when he pouts at Kakashi's smile. "If that's what you want, Rival, then I am happy to oblige!"

The door creaks ever-so-slightly open. Shiba’s big eyes and mohawk-like fur peeps into the room. A panting pink tongue flops from his mouth.

“Hey boss…?” he begins, eyes pleading. He plonks himself right at Kakashi’s feet, tail sweeping behind him. Gai would crouch down to pet him if he was sure he’d be able to get up again. “Can we have dumplings yet?”

“You haven’t eaten them all yet?” Kakashi replies, eyebrows up in his hairline. The surprise is genuine: the pack don't often exhibit such restraint.

Gai beams, unspeakably proud. "We'll be right with you! Please accept my apologies for making you wait!”

Shiba’s ears perk up. He wiggles onto Gai’s feet instead. “Well, it’s all right if it’s _you_ , Gai.”

“ _Hey_.”

Gai laughs. He can almost ignore the pain building rapidly down his leg. He pats Kakashi’s arm, both in sympathy and to signal that he’ll have to sit down soon. He’s very much aware that he’s only just gotten to his feet, but Kakashi doesn’t so much as bat an eye. If it bothers him that Gai can’t keep up anymore, then he hides it so well that even Gai can’t tell.

The look in Kakashi's eyes is stern – but warm, as though he’s amused by whatever Gai has done to earn such a look. He squeezes Gai’s arm. Even without his sharingan, it feels as though he can see straight through Gai’s mind.

 _Trust me_ , those eyes seem to say.

Gai does – with everything. He supposes that should include his worst.

“Dinner?” Kakashi asks.

“DINNER,” Shiba hollers before Gai can reply, and from the kitchen there’s a resounding cry of _FOOD!_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [kakagai week 2019](https://kkgweek.tumblr.com/) \- prompt was "trust".
> 
> Thanks for reading! All comments are appreciated :)


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